


In Memories and Dances

by LostButterflyUtau



Category: Elena of Avalor (Cartoon)
Genre: Dancing, EoA Discord Challenge, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic, pageant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostButterflyUtau/pseuds/LostButterflyUtau
Summary: For as long as Carla can remember, dancing has been a part of her. A way for her to connect with both the mother she never met and the father who raised her on his own. But, as her and Victor's first time performing for more than a street crowd approaches, Carla can't help nerves creeping up on her. Adding to that, the pettiness of the other contestants makes her wonder if pushing through this pageant is even worth it.
Relationships: Carla Delgado & Victor Delgado
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	In Memories and Dances

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the EoA Discord’s Weekly Challenge prompt, “Dancing.” It was meant to be a small drabble, but became something a little bigger with dancing as a small element rather than the centre focus. This story is also part of my "Mirror World AU" in which Carla had a different mother who passed away when she was born.

She knew the routine, could see each and every step in her mind. Her new talent dress fit and flowed perfectly. The makeup Abuela helped her choose was beautifully blended with just enough sparkle. And, once her father was done brushing it out, her hair would be set, every strand in place. Everything was going exactly as planned.

So, then, why couldn’t she stop pulling at her bracelet?

She flicked her eyes up to her reflection, met first her own gaze and then Victor’s when he looked up. She quickly glanced over his face, turned her eyes back down when she caught the concern in his.

Victor set the brush aside, pulled a thick purple ribbon from where he’d stored it in his pocket. He didn’t say anything at first, decided to concentrate on making sure her hair was _just right_ before asking, “What’s wrong, _Mija_?”

“Hm?” Carla looked back up, separated her hands, “Oh! Nothing! I’m just – ” She stopped, tried to rack her brain for some kind of excuse.

Her father smiled, brought his hands down to comfortingly rub her shoulders, “Nervous?”

“What? No!” Carla shook her head. “Why would I be nervous? It’s not like I haven’t done this dance before.”

Though he wanted to contest her, he didn’t. Instead, he gave her a small smile and stepped away without a word.

Watching him go, she felt a strange mix of emotions. She wanted to be relieved he wasn’t asking more questions but knew that he didn’t buy her claims. He knew her too well to just brush her off when she was lying, even when it was mostly to herself. She sighed, reached over for her favourite shade of lipgloss, dropping the vial when she heard giggling behind her.

“Aw, how _cute_ ,” A taller girl said, making it a point to pull at the end of Carla’s perfectly tied hairbow.

“Please don’t touch me,” Carla ordered as she grabbed the tube again, trying her best to be cordial. If there was one thing her diplomacy lessons had been good for, it was teaching her when to disengage from certain conversation. She’d had more than enough trouble from this girl – whose name was Rosalea – her mother and their gaggle of acquaintances during her ventures into pageantry, trouble that had escalated tenfold since the day she came to register for this pageant.

She’d heard it all at this point about how unfair it was that the director had let her enter a _Mother and Daughter_ pageant with her father. They seemed to think that, because he was a man, Victor didn’t have to work as hard to look good and that, if Carla did well, it would just be because the judges felt sorry for her. All things that were far from true.

Victor had spent the past two weeks rehearsing with her and Esteban through every step of the pageant. He learned how to properly walk alongside her and which marks to hit. Of course, his routine was adjusted to an extent, as it would look remarkably silly if he was smiling and turning in the same rehearsed, feminine way Carla was. But, they worked it out and managed to come up with a routine that worked for both of them.

Then there were the hours of talent practice. Dancing together was nothing new for them, but the addition of the magic elements was for Victor. They’d not only had to learn a modified version of one of their favourite dances, but how and when to cast the right spells at the right time and move around the illusions and lights in a way that showed them off but also didn’t distract from their steps.

But, they’d gotten through it all together and she was eager to show off their hard work. Mostly. Because of what she’d heard whispered around, there was a small part of her that did worry about the judges’ perception. She didn’t want to win anything because they felt bad. She wanted to win because she worked for it. Just because he wasn’t a “mom” didn’t make her Papa any less capable. Heck, he’d even started to learn how to help with pageant preparations and makeup, something he rarely ever did before. Okay, so maybe all he had learned thus far was how to pick out the right colours and swatch shades before settling on any product, but he was trying.

“As if it will make a difference,” Rosalea said, her voice breaking Carla’s train of thought. She smirked, placed her hand on Carla’s shoulders. “You’re already getting points off for breaking the rules, what’s a few more?”

Carla cut her eyes over to her left shoulder, carefully pushed the other girl’s hand off. “I asked you not to touch me.”

Though her claims weren’t true, they also weren’t worth the argument.

Rosalea frowned at the lack of reaction. Why wasn’t she yelling? Or even glaring? She paused, watched as Carla adjusted her ribbon, the smirk returning as an idea came to mind. “You can act like you’re okay, but we all know you’re not. Who can be when their mom is a deadbeat who won’t even show up for a pageant?”

That did it.

Carla whipped around, eyes narrowed with all of the anger and sadness she’d been forcing down. What happened to Valeria was no one’s business, but she also wasn’t going to let this girl go on believing that her Mama never cared.

“Oops, looks like I pricked a nerve.”

Carla took in a breath, tried to force back the urge to shove her back into the clothing rack behind them. “You don’t know _anything_ about my mother, so I would appreciate it if you would stop badmouthing her.” 

“Or _what_?” The girl sneered, leaned against the vanity table. “You’ll cry so hard I’ll drown in a river of tears?”

Carla sighed, pushed the chair back and moved to stand. “It takes a lot more than a few empty threats to make me cry. Threats you wouldn’t have to make if you actually had talent.”

Rosalea gasped, snapped, “What do you know about talent?”

Carla shrugged, turned, “Just that I heard your mother carrying the whole song. Guess the music skipped a generation.” 

The taller girl opened her mouth to retaliate and immediately snapped it shut again. For once in her life, she didn’t know what to say. At this point she’d tried pretty much every insult she could about the situation, still, she searched her brain for a retort, eyes widening when Carla started to walk away. “Hey! Don’t walk away from me!”

“Too late!” Carla called, biting back a laugh when she heard a huff followed by the hard stamp of a heel. For some reason, despite the nastiness Rosalea was trying to invoke, Carla felt a little better. Likely because it gave her somewhere else to focus her feelings. However, the feeling was fleeting. As she approached the stage steps, her nerves tightened again. Would they really be able to pull this off? She sighed to herself, startled when she felt a hand come down on her shoulder. 

“There you are,” Victor said. “We have something for you.”

 _‘We?’_ Carla thought and turned, finding both Papa _and_ Abuela behind her. She looked from one to the other, raised an eyebrow at the hand behind her father’s back.

He chuckled at her expression and brought his hand around, his smile widening slightly at the way her eyes lit up. 

“Cleo!” She said, eagerly taking the stuffie from him and hugging the kitten against her chest. She nuzzled her face against her fur, the familiar sensation immediately sending a wave of warmth through her.

“I thought she’d make you feel better,” He said, his heart melting at how she cuddled her friend close. Even at twenty, she was still adorable. And now, more than that, she was a scared little girl who just needed a little bit of comfort.

Carla took a step forward, wrapped an arm around her father. “Thanks, Papa.”

Luisa gave a fake scoff, “And where’s mine? I’m the one who told Esteban to let you bring her this morning.”

Carla giggled, moved to hug her as well. “Thank you, Abuela.”

When Carla pulled back, Luisa took her free hand, squeezed it. “I know you’re nervous, _Mi Querida_ , but you’ll be _fine_. I’ve seen you two dance.” 

“It’s not the dance,” Carla admitted, gently swinging Cleo back and forth in her arms, her little bell softly jingling with each movement.

“Then what, _Mija_?” Victor asked, coming around to put his hand on her shoulder. 

Carla sighed, brought Cleo back up to her face. “It’s just… What will everyone else think about it? I know it shouldn’t matter and that they’re just being petty, but ever since registration people have been looking at us funny and making snide comments, even people I’ve never had a problem with before.”

He gave her a sympathetic look, rubbed her shoulder. “If it’s bothering you, we can leave. I won’t hold it against you if you want to stop.” He said nothing else, his eyes speaking for how much he meant those words. If Carla truly felt that this was the wrong choice for her, he wouldn’t hold her back. 

She looked down, ran a careful hand over Cleo’s back. While she appreciated her father’s willingness to stand by her, she also knew that she couldn’t quit. She didn’t want to. It would be a waste to throw away all that time spent practicing and being fitted and refitted for the performance outfits they were wearing. And, beyond that, she wanted to finish what she started. She’d made such a big fuss about even getting into the pageant that it would look terrible on her if she gave up, especially after Papa was so willing to do it with her.

Finally, she looked up at him, said, “No. I want to finish it.”

Victor brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure?”

Carla nodded. “We can’t back out now. Not when we’ve made it this far.”

Victor opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the stage manager announcing his and Carla’s number as the next one. He then watched as Carla gave Cleo one last hug before handing her back to Luisa, who placed her gently in the bag around her shoulder.

She gave Carla’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be watching.”

“Ready?” Victor asked, offered his arm.

Without saying a word, Carla took it and they headed up the stage’s steps together, waiting and watching as the pair before them finished off their own dance routine.

“They’re good,” She muttered and gripped the curtain as she leaned over slightly, taking note of how they hit every step perfectly, shoes tapping in time to the music.

He leaned over with her, set a gentle hand on her back. “Let’s just have fun with our routine, okay?”

“Right,” Carla murmured and took in a deep breath. She could do this. _They_ could do this. They’d been dancing together so long it was as natural as breathing. All she had to do was focus on the steps and spells and the spirit she knew was watching over them.

After what seemed like forever, the music stopped. The audience clapped and the duo left the stage, the announcer repeating their names and number before calling Carla and Victor up.

As they waited for Marlena to start playing, Carla took a moment to glance over the audience, saw both Gabe and Esteban – whom she’d pushed out shortly after arriving – in their spots near the front, along with several other people who exchanged looks at the scene, looks that only made her more determined to keep going. Then, the tune started and she turned to her father, her attention focused on only him and the steps that they knew so well.

Suddenly, nothing mattered. Not the audience or the judges or the people backstage. In her mind, she wasn’t on stage anymore. She was back in one of those little apartments they floated between when she was a child, dancing with her father for no reason other than it making them both happy. The only difference was that this time, they had magic.

On cue with the melody, they separated, and pulled their tamboritas. Hers was a shadow spell that mustered up a series of shapes that swirled and swayed in time with the music, and his provided a series of little, grape-sized floating lights that settled around the stage. With a twirl of her wand, Carla holstered it again, twirled to meet Victor back in the centre of the floor. Together, they moved around the illusions, their steps in perfect sync with the music.

For as nervous as she claimed to be, Carla hit her cues perfectly. Victor expected nothing less. Of course, if she did misstep, he wouldn’t scold her. But he knew that she wouldn’t. This was a dance they knew by heart, usually danced without music. Sure, it had been modified slightly, but the changes were small and when it came to dancing, Carla picked up new things quickly. She was so much like her mother in that regard.

When it came to dancing, Valeria had a natural inclination to it. She could pick up any step fairly quickly and had a way of putting her own little spin on traditional dances. Each move was calculated, yet natural. And Carla was the exact same way. Once she decided she wanted to learn to dance, Victor was happy to teach her, even more so when he realised that she seemed to possess the same drive and determination as her mother. They’d spent hours practicing and perfecting their craft, making it a point to learn new dances as they travelled, and Carla loved every second of it. Dancing was more than a fun hobby, it was part of her.

He twirled her again when Marlena strummed a stronger note, drew her back into his arms as the song slowed, her dress floating with every movement. As much as she treasured her hand-me-down dance dress, he knew that they were both grateful she had foregone wearing it for the pageant. She still loved it and would wear it to festivals, but with it being over twenty years old and more subdued than pageant culture called for, it wasn’t the right choice. Instead, Carla worked with the royal seamstress to create something that was both new and a fitting homage.

The outfit was the same shade of purple, but with a beaded bodice and a touch of sparkle around the layered skirt that, instead of blue and yellow, made use of pink and white accents. Cute, girly and pageant perfect, just as Carla described it during their final fitting.

He smiled at the memory, at the way the fabric seemed to move in time with the music as the last series of notes began. She gave a subtle nod as they faded off, a silent indicator that she was ready for the final piece. He turned his smile to her, placed his hands on her waist, lifted and twirled, her hair spinning as he spun her, the memories combined with the present moment filling them both with a sense of joy and triumph.

They twirled into the last step of the performance, the only sound when they stopped being the faint click of Carla’s heels against the wood. At first, everything seemed to stop, then, one by one, the members of the crowd started to clap as Victor wrapped an arm around Carla and pulled her in close. However, as much as they appreciated the reaction, they knew that it was the hard-to-read judges they really had to please.

Because she treated pageants as a hobby, it was rare that Carla got caught up in winning, but this time she was set on getting _something_ for both her and her Papa. She knew it was wrong, but after all of the snide comments and sideways looks they had endured, seeing the looks on the other pairs’ faces when they swept up several awards

would be the perfect revenge.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait _too_ long, having the second-to-last number in the lineup. Of course, there was still a decent amount of time between them leaving the stage and crowning to allow the judges time to deliberate. Time that allowed Carla and the other girls to change out of their talent costumes and into crowning outfits.

“How do you always end up with such _cutesy_ outfits?” Rosalea hissed when she settled next to Carla at the vanity station.

Carla cut her eyes, but said nothing, kept her concentration on the section of hair she was brushing out.

Rosalea frowned, tried again. “Can’t find anything _appropriate_ that’ll fit?”

“Papa!” Carla called, ignoring the remark as she turned around in her chair, found her father caught in a conversation with one of the mothers. “Where’s my headband?”

She then laughed at the relieved look on Victor’s face as he headed over, the purple accessory in hand.

“Who’s your friend?” She teased, handed over the bejewelled hair brush.

He shook his head, separated out a section of hair. “I have no idea. She just came up and wouldn’t stop talking.”

Carla tilted her head slightly, the hair her father was holding slipping between his fingers with the movement. “Was she at least nice?” She asked as Victor re-separated the hair. “If she was, you should give her a chance. When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“ _Carla_ ,” Victor said in a tone that let her know he didn’t want to entertain her.

 _‘Fine,’_ She thought with a pout as she sat back in her chair and her father turned his focus back to her hair, carefully brushing it out while, on the side, Rosalea glared.

He flicked his eyes over to her, said as he set Carla’s headband, “You keep doing that and your face will get stuck that way.”

Unable to help herself, Carla laughed at both the comment and the way the other girl’s eyes widened before she huffed and stalked off, probably to complain to her mother, who neither Carla nor Victor saw until right before the crowning line up. She had the same ‘high and mighty’ air that her daughter did, standing behind her and looking proud, as if they had already swept the whole pageant. She’d been obnoxious all throughout the event, ordering stagehands around and throwing catty remarks at the other mothers and daughters all while bragging about her own and how much money they’d spend on the pageant. It was as if she _expected_ to win based on her money and fake smile alone. 

Unfortunately for her, the judges had different ideas of what made a winner. Money couldn’t buy poise or grace.

Carla toyed with her bracelet as they finished the division awards for the age group below hers, glanced up when she felt the brush in her hair as Victor finished a last-minute touch up, adjusting her headband one final time just before they and the others in the group were called for lineup.

He put the brush in his back pocket, gave his daughter a gentle push towards the stairs and out to where they knew there were people waiting to give them praise and proud smiles whether they won anything or not.

Though, the look on Rosalea and her mother’s faces when Carla won both Prettiest Eyes and Prettiest Hair along with the talent award – which she shared with her father – was a pretty good reward too, one that only got better when they put that division queen sash around her shoulders and handed her the rose that meant she _and_ Victor pulled for a higher title, as those were given to them as _teams_ , not individuals.

Rosalea and her mother pulled too and gave Carla and Victor smug looks as the younger women filed off stage and the parents of the younger girls came back up for their own division crowning.

Carla tried not to expect much but couldn’t help the nagging feeling of wanting her father to get _something_. He had worked so hard to do this with her and she hated the idea of him going unrewarded. He’d said that her putting up such a fuss about wanting to do it with him was more than enough and she knew he meant that, but still, some kind of recognition would be nice.

She waited with bated breath as the announcer read off the cards for each special award, fingers gently twirling around a piece of her hair while, next to her, Rosalea tapped her foot impatiently, the pace picking up every time they called a name that wasn’t her mother’s. Carla glanced over briefly, swore that the taller woman’s foot was going to go straight through the floor if they didn’t call the right name. For once, she understood her. But it didn’t stop the immense joy she felt at watching the shock cross everyone’s faces when they named _Victor_ as Best Dressed, a feeling that continued to grow when she and the other high titles returned to the stage and Rosalea was only the second runner up.

After hearing that, Carla almost expected to win, but also wasn’t disappointed at them being the first runners-up, though the woman handing out the awards was more than a little confused as she looked from Carla to Victor with two crowns in hand. 

“We didn’t plan for a _man_ to enter, so I don’t…” She started and Carla cut her off by gently taking one of the tiaras.

“It’s fine,” Carla said and turned to her father. She leaned up on her toes, giggled as she set the rhinestone tiara crookedly on his head.

“Papa pretty,” She teased with a laugh, using the line she so often did when she was a little girl making and colouring paper crowns.

He smiled, shook his head as she backed down and a series of scattered, good-natured laughs rose from the crowd. He then gestured to the woman.

She handed him the second tiara, put the sash around Carla before stepping away and letting him set the crown on her head, any nervousness he had melting into pride when he caught the look of pure joy in his daughter’s eyes as she glanced back at him. She grabbed his hand, gently pulled him forward as the audience erupted into an applause started by their own group of close friends. They bowed together with the same synchrony they had shared during their dance, spurred on by an audience who was happy to praise such a clear and true bond.


End file.
